


Blood Sticks, Sweat Drips

by feveredpitch



Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Blackmail, Emotional Abuse, Emotional Manipulation, M/M, Mentions of alcoholism, Mentions of past child abuse, Prison, Unhealthy Relationships, Verbal Abuse, general fuckery, harley!bones, joker!jim, mentions of domestic abuse, mentions of violence and murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-02
Updated: 2014-03-02
Packaged: 2018-01-14 06:16:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1255954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/feveredpitch/pseuds/feveredpitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>McKirk Joker / Harley Quinn AU - After notorious criminal Jim Kirk, nicknamed 'The Joker', is arrested and sent to Arkham, he is required to attend weekly sessions with prison psychiatrist Leonard McCoy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blood Sticks, Sweat Drips

**Author's Note:**

> Much thanks to [Ashley](http://torchwood1701.tumblr.com) for being the best beta I could have asked for!
> 
> I listened to [this mix](http://8tracks.com/notmarriedtojohnnydepp/mad-love) when I was writing it, I highly recommend blasting it while you read!

Leonard had been doing this for many years now, but he still felt the chill of terror run down his spine every time he sat across someone like __him__. They were all the same - they walked with a certain swagger;they sat in the chair across from Leonard in his office and they talked like they were being interviewed for a world famous publication, not as the psychiatrist that the city required them to see once a week.

This one was different though. After all these years doing this Leonard could sense that this one was not quite like the rest; this one was a bit more manic, a bit crazier. This one could present a real problem for him. It was their first meeting together and they sat wordlessly for 20 minutes, a silent game of cat and mouse that Leonard refused to lose.

The other man broke the uncomfortable silence first.

"You want me to talk."

It wasn't a question; it was a statement. He knew what Leonard wanted from him. But he probably figured, why rush to get everything out there on the first day? After all, they had a lifetime of this.

"Only if you've got something to say," Leonard shot back. He had played this game too many times, he wasn't about to lose now. Especially to the likes of him. They called Jim Kirk a crazed psychopath - the most dangerous man that the world has ever seen. And his cold eyes were currently fixed onto Leonard.

He leaned forward, a glint in his eye that could be perceived as mischievous to someone that didn't know his criminal record. His lips curled up into a smile that never could quite reach his cold, dead eyes. "Well, __Leonard__ ," Jim spat his name out like a curse, and maybe at this point it was. "You wanna know how I got these scars?"

Leo took the question as an invitation to stare at the glasgow smile, which extended a couple of inches past each corner of his mouth. The media had been speculating non-stop since Kirk’s arrest and the subsequent “trial of the century”, followed by his sentencing. Life in prison without the possibility of parole, a verdict that surprised no one.

Also required by the state, the inmate was to be seen by a psychiatrist once a week for the entirety of his sentencing. No one had wanted this one. There were 4 psychiatrists employed by the state and they drew straws to see who would get stuck with the new inmate. The one that had murdered close to 100 people in cold blood. Or at least that’s how many he had left his calling card with.

“Alright, Mr. Kirk, I’ll play along. How did you get those scars?”

Jim stared at him, tilting his head in amusement, the shadow of an actual smile threatening to cross his face for a brief moment. He had gotten used to reporters and lawyers hounding him over the past months. He had gotten used to people __demanding__ and __begging__ to know the truth behind his broken face.

This was an entirely new game.

“Dr. McCoy, you don’t seem to be genuinely concerned about my stories of heartbreak and sorrow.” Jim placed his hand on his chest, his mouth opened in mock consternation.

“Probably because I genuinely don’t give a shit, kid.”

Kirk’s eyes widened in actual shock. He wasn’t expecting such a straightforward reply from Leo. To be honest, when Leo opened his mouth he didn’t except the truth to fly out of his mouth. But it was out there and he was unapologetic for it.

“I had a hard childhood.”

“So did I. So did thousands, millions of people. But that isn’t an excuse to become a raging psychopath.”

A brightness filled Kirk’s eyes. He was used to sympathy and he was used to anger. He wasn’t used to absolute apathy. He wasn’t used to someone who refused to play. He expected to come in here and sing his sad song once a week to some poor sap that would nod their head for 60 minutes as they watched the clock tick down.

He wasn’t expecting a challenge and he sure as hell wasn’t expecting it in such a pretty package either. A quick glance at the clock told him their session was almost up. He was going to have to re-evaluate his strategies now. The game had gotten a hell of a lot more interesting.

Leonard followed Jim’s gaze towards the clock, deciding that it was time enough for today. As he called out for the guards, two men that were stationed in the hallway outside of the office entered, shackles in hand as they cuffed Jim’s hands and feet back together before escorting him back to his cell. “I’ll see you again at the same time again next week, Mr. Kirk.”

Jim didn’t reply, but kept his eyes fixed on the doctor as they prepared to take him back. He was in the hall, but still within earshot when he called out, “Looking forward to it, __Leonard__.”

Leo shuddered at the sound. He couldn’t quite place his finger on how Kirk said his name. Like he was spitting out something that tasted foul on the tip of his tongue.

He always felt slightly empty and hollow after each appointment of his, having to sit there for 60 revolting minutes, but this was different. This was much worse. This was the most foul, evil creature he had ever sat across from in his life and he couldn’t help the sense of dread that settled into the pit of his stomach. He needed to walk away from this, get out of it while he still could.

But he had to figure out what made Jim Kirk tick.

He couldn’t walk away now even if he tried.

***

Their second session started off much like the first, filled with a tense silence that neither of them were going to break. Leonard leaned back in his chair, giving Kirk a pointed and challenging look. He could keep this up all day. He could play this little game for however long these sessions lasted, which he figured was however long it took for some inmate to get pissed off and finally shank Kirk’s cocky ass.

Kirk remained stoic and expressionless, his eyes cold and dead. Leonard had the guards keep his legs shackled to the chair that was bolted to the floor. Kirk had to be close to a genius to keep killing for as long as he had without getting caught, so he didn’t think he would make a move with two armed guards mere feet away, but he wouldn’t put anything past him.

It only took 10 minutes of dead silence in the air before Kirk made the first move again, leaning forward bracing his arms against his knees.

“You wanna know how I got these scars?”

Leonard couldn’t help the bark of laughter that came out of his mouth. So they were playing this game again, huh? If this is how he wanted to go about this, that was fine with Leonard.

“Sure, kid. How did you get those scars?”

“Kid.”

It was a statement, not a question. A challenge, almost.

“Yeah, kid. This game you’re playing here? Where you waltz in and expect me to coddle you and beg for your attention? Where you expect me to hang onto your every word and believe it like it was goddamn gospel? That’s what kids do. So until you come in here and decide not waste my time yanking my chain, you’re gonna be __kid__.”

“I thought you people were supposed to care. Aren’t you all about fixing people, Leonard?” Jim cocked his head to the side when the doctor’s name rolled off his tongue.

His name was starting to sound less like a curse and more like extolment and Leo wasn’t sure which one scared him more.

“I don’t care if we stare at each other in dead silence for 60 minutes every week. I don’t care if you come in and pretend to be full of remorse for every life you took. I don’t __care__  about you. You’re right - I am a doctor and I took an oath, first do no harm. I have dedicated my life to helping people. But you aren’t a person. You aren’t something that can be fixed. You’re a goddamn monster.”

Jim’s jaw tightened as he clenched his teeth and gritted out, “I am __not__ a monster.”

Leonard looked up and saw something akin to defiance flutter across his face before the mask came back on. He fought the urge to smile. Everyone, even the worst criminals, has a chink in their armor. This had gotten a lot more interesting and Leonard was determined now to see what made Kirk tick. The media had portrayed him as a criminal mastermind that had gotten so caught up in the game, that he had slipped up. They said his own narcissism was his great downfall and at the time, Leonard agreed with them.

But now he wasn’t so sure. The man sitting in front of him didn’t seem like someone who was brimming with confidence, although that could just be the effect of where he was. Prison does some crazy things to people. There was a nagging feeling that just wouldn’t go away, though. Behind every mass murderer, there was always a why. There was never just murder for the sake of murder. He had all but convinced himself before their session today that he wasn’t going to investigate this further, but something in Kirk’s eyes when he denied being a monster sparked an interest in Leonard and he couldn’t let it go now.

“Tell me about your mother.”

Jim’s head shot up, his eyes comically wide. “You fucking serious? I thought they only did that shit in movies.”

“You’re the one that wanted to talk about your poor, broken childhood so I am giving you an outlet here. If you wanted to talk about something else, be my guest.”

“What happened to not giving a shit if we just stared at each other in silence for 60 minutes?”

Leonard shrugged. He didn’t have a good answer for that yet. Well, at least not an answer that didn’t make __him__ seem like the crazy one.

“Changed my mind.”

Their staring contests were becoming a frequent thing and this was only their second session. Jim opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by one of the guard’s rapping on the open door. “Time’s up, Doc.”

Leonard nodded as they came in to lead Jim away once again. Kirk gave him a chilling smile, returning the nod. “Until we meet again, Leonard.”

Leo swallowed hard, his throat suddenly hot and dry. He got up to glance into the hallway to make sure the guards were well away at this point before closing his office door and retrieving his hidden bottle of whiskey he kept in his desk. He grabbed a glass, pouring himself two fingers and quickly downing it, ignoring the burn in his throat as he settled at his desk and poured another.

He got his notebook out labeled ‘Jim Kirk’ and stared at the blank pages before grabbing his pen. Writing ‘session two’ on the top of the page, he drew a giant question mark under it. That seemed to sum up the session quite well, in his opinion. Kirk was an enigma wrapped in a mystery - the greatest puzzle he had ever seen. It was either going to be the highlight of his career or his greatest downfall, he wasn’t sure which one yet.

He chose to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach, telling himself that it was the whiskey on an empty stomach that was making his gut clench. He had been lying to himself for almost 30 years - why stop now?

***

He had a week to get his shit together before Kirk waltzed back through the door again. He hadn’t had a drink since he imbibed after their last session. He couldn’t risk it - had to stay clear headed. There was a very thin line he was tiptoeing right now and if he fell, the results would be catastrophic.

Leonard has seriously considered asking another psychiatrist to take over Kirk’s case. That would have been the __smart__ thing to do, but he never did the smart thing. A quick glance at the clock told him that he only had a couple minutes left before their session began. He had thought a lot about it this week and he decided that it would be a good idea to take a more old school approach to their session.

He had his head bowed, scribbling notes into the practically empty ‘Kirk’ notebook when he heard the sounds of shackles echoing in the halls, coming closer and closer. He sat up and straightened the papers at his desk as Kirk entered the room. Standing up and giving a courteous nod to the guards, he motioned to them that shackling Kirk to the chair this week wasn’t necessary. Jim and the guards all had matching expressions of disbelief on their faces.

“You sure about this, Leo?”

“Yeah, it’s fine. Y’all are just a few feet away after all. Beside, I’m still pretty quick on my feet,” Leonard joked, wishing he felt as confident as he sounded. He turned to Jim, motioning for him to take his seat before returning behind the desk. The guards lingered a few moments longer than normal, checking to make sure that Kirk wasn’t going to attack as soon as their backs were turned.

“Gentlemen, it’s fine,” he reiterated, practically shooing them out of his office. He turned his attention to his patient. “So, Jim, how are things here at Arkham treating you?”

Jim sat up a little straighter, crossing one leg over the other. “I’m Jim now?”

“Well according to your file, that’s what you’ve been for almost 23 years now. Unless you prefer James?”

“Oh, fuck no. I’d rather you went back to calling me ‘kid’ every five seconds.”

“Duly noted. Is that a family name then? Relative that brings up bad memories for you?”

Jim sits there silently for a couple of minutes and when he finally answers, he can’t quite shake the air of suspicion out of his tone. “Grandfather. My mother’s father. Didn’t really know him, died before I was born.”

“That must be tough for you,” Leonard tried his best to be apathetic. “I know your father passed before you were born, as well. Must have been tough for you, growing up with just your mother, no grandparents around to help look after you.” He looked up and noted that Jim was visibly tense now.

“I had Sam.”

“That’s your,” Leonard glanced at the file, despite the fact that he had memorized every word, “your brother, correct?”

“That’s right.”

Leonard closed the thick manilla folder he had open on his desk and let it fall with a dramatic __thump__. He leaned back in his chair, hands behind his head, trying to gauge Kirk’s demeanor.

“Tell me about your mother.”

“I’m starting to think you have an unnatural obsession with my mother, Leonard.” Jim was failing at keeping his voice even, rising with anger towards the end of the sentence.

“Oh, come on now, Kirk - I thought we were getting somewhere. You practically __begged__ me our first session to ask about your poor, pathetic childhood, but whenever I bring it up, you balk. So talk to me, Jim. Tell me about your mother.”

Jim’s eyes were hard for a moment, before a smile came across his face, leaving as quickly as it came. If Leonard had blinked, he would have missed it.

“You know, I feel that sharing feelings is a two way street, __Leo__. Tell me about your father.”

Leonard sat up, his chair bouncing with the force it hit the ground. “What the fuck did you say?”

“I just asked about your father. I thought we were making polite conversation.”

“What the fuck do you know about my father?” Leonard’s nostrils were flared and his eyes were wide, if he looked in a mirror right now he knows the craziness he would see, but right now he couldn’t care less.

“Honestly, Leo?” Jim asked, leaning forward, his eyes never leaving the other man’s. “Not a goddamn thing. But I’m a man that knows people, ya know?”

“Is that so?”

“Well, that’s a lie. I __used__ to not know anything. Now I know that there is something to know. And I know you just got a hell of a lot more interesting.” Jim leaned back crossing his legs, his hands locking behind his head. “Definitely much more than a pretty face.”

Leonard’s knuckles were white, his fists clenched in balls to help him resist the urge to punch this asshole in the face. He fucked up and he knew it. He showed weakness and doing something that stupid in front of someone like Jim Kirk was the biggest mistake he could have ever made.

“Guards!”

Jim sat up, “Hey now, we still have 20 more minutes!”

“Not anymore.” Leonard turned to the guards, “Take him back to his cell. Recommend to the warden that he be isolated for the next week, no visitors, no phone calls in or out.”

“You can’t fucking do that!”

“It’s my __professional__ recommendation that Mr. Kirk here is a threat to society and needs to be kept under watch. He had a wide network of support out there and it’s the only way to ensure he gets no contact to the outside world.”

The guards nodded their understanding, quickly cuffing and shackling Kirk, leading him away. Leonard looked up and met the murderous glare coming from Kirk’s eyes.

As soon as the room was clear, Leonard sank to the floor, head in his hands trying to slow his heartbeat.

 _ _Out of all the stupid, goddamn idiotic things to pull__.

He had been wrong. Jim Kirk wasn’t a monster - he was a shark. And now that he had smelled Leonard’s blood, it was only a matter of time before he struck.

***

Leonard debating on canceling their next session. He was well within his rights that said he could drop a patient if he felt threatened in any way by them and he sure as hell was threatened by Jim Kirk. But it wasn’t that easy anymore, he couldn’t just walk away from this. For one, he was positive that if he dropped Kirk, the maniac would still find a way to play his sick little game. Like the old adage said, “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.” Besides, he didn’t think any of the other psychiatrists in rotation could handle Kirk, or at least that’s what he is telling himself.

If he was being honest with himself, he wasn’t sure what to expect from Kirk this week. He had made a rash decision on a whim to have him blocked off from all outside communication, but it was the right move. A man like Kirk had a massive network, hundreds of pawns moving all around the board just waiting for the word on where to strike next.  The last thing Leonard needed was Kirk researching him, especially where his father was concerned.

The thought of his father made his hand start drifting towards the bottom drawer of his desk, towards the bottle of whiskey that always seemed to call his name whenever he thought about David McCoy. A check of his watch told him that Kirk would be here any moment. His thoughts couldn’t drift there now, he had to have a clear head especially today.

Tension filled the room as the guards escorted Jim in and Leonard didn’t protest this week as they cuffed both his legs and his arms to the chair. Kirk looked incredulously from the guards to Leonard.

“Really, Leonard? Back to this now?”

Leonard didn’t respond, simply raised his eyebrows as if to say __this is all your own doing.__

“If I didn’t know any better I would say,” Jim paused, jerking his wrists up to test the strength of the cuffs. He made a slight noise of approval before turning his attention back to Leonard, “you didn’t __trust__ me.”

“You would be correct in your assessment.”

The goal for the day was detachment and focus. He would simply get Kirk talking as much as possible about himself, about his own life. It shouldn’t be hard, most narcissists clamored for the chance to make it all about them.

“So, Leonard,” Jim started.

“No.”

Jim blinked his eyes a few time, processing the sharp tone. “No?”

“No, kid.” He noticed Jim wince slightly at the word again. “I don’t know how familiar you are with therapy sessions, but this isn’t how it works. This isn’t a give and take situation. It’s an ‘I ask you questions and you answer or stay quiet’ situation. You can either talk or shut up, I don’t care which one. But you sure as hell don’t get to ask the questions. Got it?”

Jim opened and closed his mouth a few times, no doubt cycling through a list of smartass retorts that were filing through his brain. Instead of responding, he snapped his jaw shut and simply nodded his assent.

“Okay, Jim we left off our last session discussing your family and the lack of male role models you had growing up.”

Jim narrowed his eyes, shifting in his seat as much as he could, “I had Sam.”

“Alright, well the lack of __adult__ male role models you had growing up. I gathered from our last session that you obviously don’t want to talk about your mother, so we won’t bring her up this week. What about your father?”

“What about him?”

Leonard noticed Jim’s hands grip tightly at the arm of the chair, knuckles turning white. He sighed in frustration. It was a delicate balance, dealing with someone like Kirk. He had to push at boundaries as much as possible but he couldn’t push him too far because you never know what is going to be the thing that makes someone crack.

"What do you want to talk about then?"

Jim stares for a moment, his tongue darting out to lick his lips, the corners curling into a cruel smile before he fixes his eyes upon Leonard. "Wanna know how I got these scars?"

"I want to know whatever you are willing to tell me." Leonard's voice remained even, the perfect paragon of professionalism.

Jim contemplates his response for a moment, tongue continuing to dart, swiping at the beginnings of the scars that trails past his lips. Finally he deems Leonard's response acceptable and with a slight nod begins to tell his tale.

"I was sixteen years old, and was on my first date with this chick - older chick. Her name isn't coming to my head but she had this fire engine red hair and a libido that could've turned a sex addict into a monk. I had seen her around town a few times when I was with Frank, and--"

"Who's Frank?"

Jim sighed heavily, irritated by Leonard interrupting his tale. "Frank was married to my ma when I was younger."

Leonard opened his mouth to ask him another question, but Jim continued his story before he could, cutting off any impending questions Leo might have.

“And Frank had this car, this ‘72 Mustang painted bright green and man did she dig that car. So after seeing her in town a few times, she came up to me and asked me if it was my car. So of course being the upstanding citizen I was I told her fuck yeah it was my car and asked her if she ever wanted to take it out for a spin one night to give me a call. She wrote her address on my hand and told me to pick her up the next night at 8 and don’t be late.

“I knew when I saw her she was one of those fast and loose types, knew she’d be the kind of girl that would put out before the first date and then probably demand to be taken home. She only wanted two things from me - my dick and my car.

“Luckily for me, Frank decided to get drunk early and was passed out before the sunset so I didn’t need to worry about sneaking around the house and figuring out how I was gonna steal the car without getting my ass beat. I went and picked up Red at her house and before we were even out of the driveway, her hand was rubbing in the inside of my thighs, sayin’ we should go watch the sunset at the bluff. Anyone that grew up around Riverside knew what that was code for.”

“And what was that code for?”

“Oh come on, Leonard, just because you were married don’t mean you’re stupid, does it?”

“How the hell did--”

“So I went to the bluff and found a part that no one really ever goes to, so I know we wouldn’t be interrupted. This girl was already in the back seat, panties around her ankles before I even had the car in park.  So I got my ass back there and we started making out, I was kissing on her neck and she started wiggling around, pushing my head down. I knew what she wanted and being the gentleman I am--"

Leonard made a noise that sounded like a cross between amusement and disbelief. Jim's nostrils flared in irritation. He didn't like being interrupted and this was the third time Leonard had done it so far. Leonard gestured for him to continue his story.

"As I was saying, like the gentleman I am, I obliged. I opened the back door and got out on my knees, because the backseat of a car is a tight spot for fucking as it is, it's no place to be eatin' pussy if you plan on doing it right. And I could tell by the noises she was makin' I was doing a hell of a job. We were both really into it, she was yelling and screaming and I guess in all of my excitement, I had put the car into neutral instead of park and it started rolling. I tried to get away, but her thighs were squeezing around my head and when I was able to lift my face, the momentum of the car made the door swing shut and hit me right in my mouth. Split it wide open, had to get 12 stitches, was grounded for an eternity and got a nice black eye from Frank to match the stitches."

It took Leonard a few seconds after the end of Jim’s story to realize his mouth was hanging open a bit. He was trying to figure out the most professional way to put his opinion, but what came out was, “That is the biggest load of bullshit I have ever heard in my life.”

He half expected for Jim to lash out in anger, but instead the other man hung his head and shook in silent laughter.

“Okay, it might be total bullshit. But you have to admit - it’s a hell of a story.”

A few moments passed, Jim’s eyes never leaving Leonard, before he spoke again.

“Leonard, I like you. You’re a good man. So I’ve decided you’re gonna help me with something.”

Leonard felt his blood turn cold. A request from a psychopath could never go well. He remained silent and rigid, not trust his voice to give his fear away.

“I’ve decided that, as cozy as my accommodations here at Arkham are, it’s time for me to go on my merry way. I need a way out and you’re gonna help me do it.”

“No.” It came out of Leonard’s mouth before he realized he was speaking.

Jim blinked a few times in surprise. No one told him no and lived to tell about it.

“I don’t think you understand that this isn’t a polite request. I want out of here and you __are__ going to help me do it and you are __definitely__ not going to report me to the authorities. You know who I am. You have my file, you’ve seen the case reports. You know what I’m capable of. You know what my people are capable of.”

“I know what you are capable of and I don’t care. You get out there and you are just going to cause more chaos and death. And I realize this may be writing my own death sentence, but I don’t care. It’s worth it to keep you off of the streets.”

“Oh, Leonard, you’ve mistaken my intent. I don’t want to go back to terror and the mobs. It got so... _ _boring__. All I was is a little...revenge.”

“Revenge for what?”

“Now, now - that’s my little secret. You have my word that I just want to kill this one person and no one else - scout’s honor.”

“My answer is still no, Mr. Kirk and I am under obligation to report you to the authorities that you are planning an escape and I’m sure they will keep you in isolation from now until they deem you no longer a risk. Which, if I had to guess, I would say is forever.”

Leonard got up to head to the door, planning on summoning the guards to return Jim back to his cell. Jim’s voice started to fill the room, it’s tone cold and deadly, stopping Leonard in his tracks.

“Leonard, you should really consider what you are about to do. Not just for your sake. Just think to yourself - what would little Joanna want you to do?”

A rush of blood filled his ears and his heart was so fast he felt like it was about to burst out of his chest. He did a quick mental scan of his office - he had no personal effects out on display. No pictures, no letters, nothing. He was sure he had never even mentioned to her to the guards in passing. Which means Jim had gotten someone to research him and found out about Georgia.

He had found Leonard’s weakness - his open wound and he had just been waiting for the right time to attack.

Before realizing what he was doing, he crossed back to Jim, grabbing two handfuls of the inmate’s shirt, bringing his faces inches away from his own.

“I swear to God, if you even __breathe__ within a thousand mile radius of my little girl, I will make sure you are destroyed. Slowly and painfully.”

“I knew you had it in you, Leonard. I knew you were just like me.”

“I am __nothing__ like you.”

“Aren’t you? Isn’t everyone just a little bit insane? Doesn’t everyone have that pressure point, that when it’s hit, it’s the final straw?”

Jim took Leonard’s silence as a response and kept talking.

“The ball is in your court, Doctor. I’ll give you two weeks to think about your answer and you best think about it __very__ carefully. Although the answer should really be quite simple.”

Leonard let go of Jim’s shirt, pushing him back against the chair. He opened his mouth to speak, but the guards appeared at the door before he was given the chance. They came in to collect Jim, and as he was leaving the room, he called out over his shoulder.

“Just ask yourself one question - is there anything you wouldn't do for your family?”

Leonard went back behind his desk, sinking in the chair, pulling out the photographs of his little girl he kept within arm’s reach at all time. His fingers brushed over their smiling faces, the memories of happier times filling his mind. If he closed his eyes and thought hard enough, he could hear the sound of her laugh fill his ears.

He shook his head to clear his thoughts, the only thing on his mind now was Jim’s final question.

_Is there anything you wouldn’t do for your family?_

When put that way, the answer was simple, really.

***

The next time Jim entered his office, Leonard motioned to the guards to leave his hands uncuffed, but just in case to leave his legs shackled to the floor bolts. His jaw was starting to ache thanks to him constantly grinding his teeth over the last week. Instead of sitting behind his desk as usual, he propped himself on the edge of the front of his desk, less than a foot away from Jim. He leaned down slightly to get eye level with the psychopath. Angry, hate-filled hazel eyes were fiercely locked with those cold, dead baby blues. His nostrils were flared, his breath coming out in harsh spurts. He didn’t trust himself to speak immediately, counting in his head until almost fifty before he broke the tension, his voice in a cold whisper when it finally came out.

“Give me one reason, one fucking reason why I shouldn’t report you harassing me and my family. You know you’d be in isolation for the rest of your life for that bullshit?”

Tongue darting out a few times in quick succession, Jim’s eyes widened in shock. “You didn’t tell the police?”

“Not yet, no.”

“Why, Leonard, you shock me even still.”

“Do NOT call me Leonard. If you want to address me in this office, you may refer to me as Doctor McCoy. We aren’t __buddies__. You don’t get the privilege of using my name.”

Jim’s eyebrows shot up comically, his hands shooting upwards, palms up, demonstrating the universal symbol for __my bad__.

“No need to be testy, Doctor.”

After a few moments of tense silence, Leonard spoke again. “You didn’t answer my question. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t press charges against you.”

“I thought the answer was quite obvious by now,” Jim shot back. “You haven’t figured out what you want to know yet.”

Leonard wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but that wasn’t quite it. He straightened up before asking, “and what is it that I want to know?”

“Why.”

“If you’re just gonna get all cryptic with me--”

“No, I meant you want to know __why__. Why I am the way I am. Because everyone has to have a story, right? You can’t just be fucked up for no reason anymore. There always has to be some tragic story. My mother didn’t love me enough. My father was an alcoholic that beat me. I had to take up all of that pent up aggression on something.”

“So what’s your story then?”

Jim looked at Leonard and for the first time, his eyes had a spark of __something__ in them. His eyes spoke volumes but his mouth remained closed.

“Who is Frank?”

Anger flashed through Jim’s eyes as he repeated his question from the previous sessions.

“You wanna know how I got these scars?”

Leonard felt the mood in the room shift, the question no longer a teasing one that Jim was using to throw him off the scent of whatever truth he had come close to discovering. This was a moment of solace and confession. He decided not to answer verbally, simply nodding his head. It was the right choice, to stay silent and let Jim tell his tale.

“My dad died before I was born, hit by a drunk driver and killed instantly. I wasn’t supposed to come out yet for another month, but the shock of the accident made her go into early labor and I popped out. James was her father, Tiberius was my dad’s dad. She wanted to name me Tiberius, but my dad overruled her on that one, thankfully. Isn’t Tiberius the worst?

“Anyways, so it was just her, me and Sam. He was five years older than I am. I was 8 or 9 when mom married Frank and things were okay at first. Not good, but okay. We weren’t his kids and he didn’t really care for us, but if we stayed out of his way he stayed out of ours. That didn’t last for long, though. He eventually got tired of the settled, married life. Got tired of being responsible for kids he didn’t want. So he started drinking more and the more he drank, the angrier he got. And the angrier he got, the more his fingers started itchin’ and apparently the only way to scratch that itch was hitting us. Sam took the brunt of it, stood up to Frank more than he should’ve to keep him away from me and mom. And that worked for a couple of years, but the day Sam turned sixteen, he packed a bag and ran off. Rumors had it that he went north and crossed over into Canada. We didn’t know for a long time what happened.

“With Sam gone, that meant it was up to me to protect mom from Frank. I tried to reason with her, tried to get her to leave him but she said she couldn’t make it without him. She was too weak to leave him and I knew it would take something drastic to get her to go. About six months after Sam left, Frank came home one night and he was in a vicious mood. You could see it in his eyes, the bruises weren’t gonna be enough, he needed to taste blood and he had his eyes fixed on me.

“I told ma to go lock herself in her room and call the police, that I would handle Frank. He came towards me and I got one good punch in, split his lip wide open. Well, that didn’t make him too happy so he reached for one of the dozen longneck bottles that were cluttering the countertop, broke the top off and lunged at my neck. I tried to move out of the way, but the doorjamb behind me caught up shirt and I was stuck. Luckily he had bad aim and instead of hitting my jugular, he just slashed my face. You can tell where the scars are that he wanted to slit my throat instead. He fell over after slashing me and I got one more good punch in before the cops showed up.

“I refused to give a statement. Knew it wouldn’t have done shit, Frank had too many friends in the Riverside PD that he never would  have served any jail time. It just would’ve made him mad. So I finally got mom to agree to get as far away from him as possible, but we only made it as far as Iowa City. A part of me thinks she just wanted to say close.

“I was like 11 or 12 when we got away from Frank and things were real good for about a year. Then somehow he tracked us down, started calling at all hours of the night, started sending black roses to the house by the dozen. Creepy shit. Mom was scared so we went to the police to file a restraining order, telling the cops we felt threatened by Frank. But the cop, you know what this motherfucker told us? Told us that since a verbal threat hadn’t been made, that there was nothing they could do. To come back when he had either made an actual threat on our lives or had tried to enter the property.

“It only took a couple more months after that for Frank to show up in Iowa City. I never saw him, I was at school when he showed up. If I had been there we wouldn’t have left alive. He was avoiding me on purpose and it was a damn good thing.”

Jim grew quiet after that, his eyes drifting like he was reliving his own personal hell all over again.

“Jim, what happened? What happened when Frank came to Iowa City?”

“Strangled her. I, uh, came home from school that day and found my mom laying in the floor in the front hallway. Bruises all around her neck. Police think that she opened the door for him and he didn’t say anything, just barged in with his hands around her neck. __The alleged suspect__ , they call him because they told me there wasn’t enough evidence for it to be pinned on Frank. That since there were no reports of any alleged abuse, that meant no history of violence. No motive. So, nothing. Since I was only 13 at the time, I went into the custody of the state and managed to piss off every foster parent in the state of Iowa. So there you have it. That’s my tragic story. That’s what you wanted to know, right?”

Leonard didn’t speak for a few minutes, his brain processing the story. Either Jim Kirk was the greatest actor he had ever seen in his life, or this was the true story. Jim’s question from the week before echoed in his brain once more.

_Is there anything you wouldn’t do for your family?_

Which could only mean one thing.

“So it’s Frank.”

Not being able to hear Leonard’s inner monologue, Jim wasn’t following his train of thought, so his confusion was understandable.

“Is what Frank?”

“That’s why you want out. You want to kill Frank.”

“Can you blame me?”

The scary thing was, Leonard could not.

“See, I told you that we are more alike than you can imagine. Maybe not to the same extreme, but enough to where you understand. Enough to where you can empathize, maybe even sympathize, with me. Enough to where if you placed yourself in my shoes, you can understand perfectly why I want to do it.”

Avenging the death of a loved one was one thing.

But committing mass murder, being responsible for the death of hundreds of people was something Leonard could never wrap his head around. So why?

A rap at the door broke him out of his reverie. He would have to wait until the next week to find out the answer to that question.

“See you next week, __Leonard__ ,” Jim spat out, a menacing reminder of the potentially life changing decision he had exactly one more week to make.

***

It consumed every single thought of Leonard’s for the next seven days, what he should do. He knew what the ethical thing to do was, the moral thing - report Kirk to the authorities. Ensure that his family in Georgia get moved into some sort of witness protection program so that when Kirk’s people inevitably went after them, there wouldn’t be a trace of them.

But if Jim Kirk was the kind of criminal he thought he was (and he considered himself sort of an expert by now), then there was someone already down in Savannah keeping tabs on his family. There were eyes and ears out everywhere and all it took was one false movement from him for it all to be over with.

His thoughts kept drifting back to the story Jim had told him, his childhood filled with abuse, pain and suffering. He couldn’t help but feel something akin to sorrow for the childhood that was stolen from him. It’s still no excuse, a lot people grow up in harsh environments, but not everyone turns to mass murder.

The decision was pretty much already made for him, but there were still some questions he needed answers. He had spent the morning making a list of questions, but it really boiled down to two important points for him. He kept one eye on the clock all morning, listening to the deafening __tick tick__ fill the room as it crept closer and closer to one o’clock.

Finally, Leonard heard the shuffling down the hall as footsteps got closer to his office. He kept his head in his papers on his desk as the guards brought Kirk in, only looking up briefly to nod as they left, shutting the door behind them.

The __tick tick tick__ of the clock was getting louder and louder in Leonard’s ears. He looked down and noticed his hands were shaking; for the first time in this whole debacle, he was starting to feel afraid.

Jim broke the silence first this time.

“So do we have a deal?”

Leonard took a deep breath to steady his voice before answering.

“I have a couple of questions first.”

Jim’s tongue darted out to lick the corner of his mouth, something Leonard noticed he did when he was surprised or impressed by something that he had done or said.

He had a feeling this was a mix of both, that Jim was taken aback by his moxie. Nonetheless, he didn’t argue when Leonard asked his first question.

“The media has speculated on a lot of things through your arrest and trial. Well, actually well before that. Probably around the time your reign of terror began.”

Leonard thought he saw Jim smile briefly at his description, but his eyes may have been playing tricks on him. He shook his head slightly to get his mind back on track before continuing.

“You have a very unique style of killing. The style, not the method. Murder has been around for centuries so I don’t think there is really a unique way of doing anything anymore. But you mutilate the bodies after you kill them and leave a calling card that is uniquely your own. So unique, that the media gave you your own nickname: The Joker.”

“Was there a question somewhere in this or did you just feel like passing the time by stating the complete obvious?” Jim didn’t like for people to beat around the bush with him, didn’t like to be toyed with.

“The first victim they found mutilated with the card wasn’t your first – it’s usually never the first. Normally, most murderers have to have a couple of practice runs before they fully develop their… _ _craft__ , for lack of a better word.”

“So, you want to know who my first was. Leonard, that’s a deeply personal question.”

“I want to know who and I want to know why. And I want to know the significance of the first victim you decided to mark.”

“And you want to know something else too, I can see it in your eyes. You can’t lie to me, can’t hide from me so don’t even try it.”

“And I want to know why you mutilate the bodies. Most people speculate that it’s due to your own extreme narcissism, that you want to see yourself in every bit of terror that you cause.”

“But you don’t think that’s it?”

“I know it isn’t.”

Jim thought about it for a couple of minutes. “Okay, I’ll give you your answers but then you have to give me mine. Deal?”

Leonard couldn’t get over the sick feeling in the pit of his stomach caused by the mere thought of making a deal with the devil.

“Yeah, deal.”

“I know you think I’m always full of shit, but my stories always have some truth to it. The girl I told you about, the one with the red hair? Actual girlfriend of mine. After a couple years of getting shuffled between foster homes, I decided I was better off on my own and made a run for it. Ended up in a dirt hole outside of Chicago bussing tables for three bucks an hour. One of the waitresses there was this cute red head that felt sorry for me because it was obvious I was a runaway with nowhere to go so she let me sleep on her couch. And eventually, her bed.

“It wasn’t long after I turned 16 that I started to get these urges, these itches. I would stare at her while she slept and I would stroke her neck. Think about how pretty she would look with my fingers crushing her esophagus, wondered if her bright green eyes would still look emerald, or would they be more of a forest green as the life slowly died from them. The thoughts consumed me. I couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t even think right anymore. Then one day it was too much to take so I grabbed a pillow while she slept and held it over her face. Had to straddle her chest to keep her from kicking at me and my arms were all scratched to hell after that. It took about five or six minutes for her to finally go limp, but __god__ what a rush. I could practically __feel__  her slowly dying in my arms. The power I had, the rush it gave me, it was the most sexual thing I have ever experienced in my life.

“I stayed with her for a couple of hours waiting to feel some sort of sorrow for what I had done, but nothing ever came. And I realized then the gift I had been given.”

“You…a gift?” Leonard stuttered out in shock. “You think being a sociopath is __gift__? You think it’s a blessing to not feel any remorse for anything you have done?”

“Well…yeah. I do. But at that point, the beautiful thing for me was that I felt I could finally do something right. I could hunt down everyone that had ever hurt our family. I could go around and track these people down that had failed to protect my mother and my brother. I could make them pay.”

Jim was getting angrier as he spoke and in those brief moments, Leonard could see a brief glimpse into his soul. When this all started, he was just an angry kid that had lost his entire family and wanted to make people suffer for it. Maybe if there had been some pre-emptive action taken at some point, his brother never would have left. His mother would still be alive.

“The police never suspected you of killing her?”

“I’m sure they may have if I had stuck around. But I was gone before the sun was up. Switched plates with another car on my way to the next town off the beaten path. It’s not like they could track me, all of my information I had given them was fake. No one knew my real name or where I was from or even how old I was.”

“So that was your first victim, and why you killed her. How long was it before you decided to start marking your victims, and why did you do that?”

“Almost two years. I went from town to town staying for a month – two tops – at a time, staying until I found a warm body to share a bed with until it came to it’s inevitable end—“

Leonard winced. That was a harsh way of talking about the lives he had taken.

“I don’t know how many towns I had gone through, but I started thinking about my 18th birthday and what it signified. Being a legal adult, being a real man. So I figured I should celebrate by behaving like a real man.

“I went back to Iowa City for it. Went through a storage locker that we owned where all of mom’s stuff ended up after she died, found the business card of the police officer that had come to the house when she wanted to file a restraining order.”

“The one that told her there was nothing that could be done?”

“The same one. I staked him out for a couple days. A real winner, that one was. Single, no kids, liked to fuck around with every man and woman that would have him. I think I was doing the world a real service. I followed him home one night. You would think it would be hard to sneak up on a policeman, but he was so sloppy drunk that he never heard me coming. Waited til he was letting himself into his apartment and came in behind him. Made sure to do it fast, didn’t want to linger. But first, I made sure he knew.”

“Knew what?”

“Knew who I was. Knew who my mother was and what had happened to her. Knew this was all of his fault, that he had made his own destiny. At the time, the scars were an afterthought. Wanted there to be a piece of me engraved in him for all of eternity.

“It didn’t take long for the media to report it and that was the most speculated part of the entire thing – everyone wanted to know all about the scars. That was the part of it that was the most widely reported. Everyone in Iowa knew about it and I was positive Frank knew too. I remember one reporter saying that it seemed like the murderer had a cruel sense of humor, carving a jester’s face into the victim. Called me the ‘Blood Joker’. Kind of overdramatic, I thought but it had a nice ring to it, The Joker. So I ran with it.

“I made sure all of my victims had some kind of standing in their community so it would be reported right away. Started leaving the playing card at all the crime scenes so they would know it was me and not a copycat. Engraved the scars into every single one of them as a warning to Frank.”

“What kind of warning?”

Jim’s eyes flicked up and met Leonard’s for the first time that session. They were cold and hard and in that moment, he looked like the definition of crazed psychopath.

“To let him know I was coming for him.”

Suddenly it all clicked in Leonard’s head and he understood perfectly how Jim Kirk’s mind worked – and that scared the hell out of him. He understood the path he took and the reasoning behind every single choice he made.

The scariest part of all is if he put himself in Kirk’s shoes, he doesn’t know if he would have changed a single choice along the way.

“So, Leonard,” Jim’s tone changed drastically, almost a hint of cheer to it now, “I showed you mine, you show me yours. Have we got ourselves a deal?”

Leonard swallowed hard, the words tasting like sandpaper coming out of his mouth.

“Yeah, we’ve got a deal.”

 

***

 

The escape didn’t take a lot of planning or finesse to pull off. The plan was simple - rough Leonard up a bit, enough to make it look like Kirk had overpowered him. The guards, of course, were on Kirk’s payroll and were stationed far enough down the noisy corridor that it was believable that neither of them had heard the commotion behind McCoy’s closed office door.

There was a change of clothes waiting for Jim and a piece of rope to help him climb out the window. Leonard’s office was on the west side of the building facing a large wooded area, not a place where cameras or guards looked often. As soon as he came in for that week’s session, he worked on changing while the guards worked on Leonard’s appearance.

“You’ve got one shot at this,” he warned the guard as he cocked his fist back, “you better make it out.”

And he sure as hell did.

Less than a minute later, his eye was already partially swollen and the guards were back in the hall in position. Jim was dressed and ready to go, opening the window and tying the rope up. He looked back at Leonard, a wistful look on his face.

“Well, Leonard, it’s been fun.”

He snorted in response, ignoring the part of his brain that was telling him that he was a little sad to see Jim go.

“Listen, kid. Just, uh, take care of yourself out there.” He gave him a friendly pat on the shoulder, his fingers lingering a little too long. Jim reached up to remove Leonard’s hand, rubbing his thumb along the palm of Leonard’s hand before reluctantly releasing it.

“Yeah, you too.” And just like that, he was gone.

***

Everything went according to plan. The police bought his story of being overpowered by the notorious felon, not knowing what was happening before it began. He told the police he wasn’t sure where Kirk could have gone or what he was up to. Told them they didn’t talk about a lot of personal stuff, but doctor/patient confidentiality still stood up.

Detectives reiterated with him that he was the only person at Arkham that James Kirk had had regular contact with and it was imperative that if he knew his whereabouts, or even a hint of who had helped him or where he may be hiding, he needed to let them know.

Leonard reassured them that if he had any sort of inkling, they would be immediately informed. It wasn’t long until the media got wind of the breakout and was staking out the front of the prison, waiting to shove microphones into Leonard’s face.

It was the same questions over and over, every single day for almost six months. He should have recorded his answers and played them back, it would have saved them all a lot of trouble. No, he didn’t know where Kirk was. No, he didn’t know who his next intended victims were. No, Kirk hadn’t told him the story behind the scars.

No, Kirk had not contacted him.

He would never admit it to anyone and couldn’t explain why, but that last part had stung. Those final moments they had in his office, there was something there. Maybe he was kidding himself in thinking that he was more than just a mere convenience to Kirk. He was trying to convince himself that he was the one that Kirk trusted, not the one that just happened to be there.

“Doctor McCoy, Doctor McCoy! Over here please! What was it like looking into the eyes of that monster every single day?”

When he would look back on this moment later, he would blame his train of thought at the time on his response.

“What right do you have to call Mr. Kirk a monster without knowing what he’s been through in his life? Who’s to say you or I would’ve done any different had we been in those same circumstances?”

The reporter stared at him, mouth and eyes both comically wide and Leonard knew he had fucked up. He should’ve just kept his damn mouth closed.

Later, when asked about it, he would blame it on the stress of the situation. Blame it on being hounded by reporters at all hours of the day and night. And no one would blame him one bit for it.

On his drive home from work, he tried to brush off the feeling of irritation towards Jim. He wasn’t sure if he was expecting a letter or a smoke signal or something, but he would’ve liked to know what he was up to. He would’ve liked to know if he was okay.

He was following the news almost obsessively, the radio was on in his office all day and his TV was turned to what the local crime network had dubbed ‘Joker Watch’ all night, constantly looking for some sort of clue or a sign. But so far, nothing. No one had seen or heard from him in the 6 months that he had escaped. He tried not to worry about it too much, tried sticking to the philosophy that no news was good news. But like his mother, he had always been an over-worrier.

He walked up the three flights of stairs up to his apartment, using the time to clear his head. He paused when he got to the door, fishing his keys out of his pocket before finally finding the correct one and letting himself in. As he opened the door, he noticed something fluttering to the floor. It landed face down and Leonard held his breath when he saw it was the back of a playing card.

He wasn’t surprised when he flipped it over and saw the Joker staring back at him.

It was his token, his sign that Jim was okay.

He tried not to think about how breathing was a little easier now. He felt a little lighter on his feet as he walked over and flipped the TV on, heading to the kitchen to make himself a drink. It took a moment for his brain to filter what the reporter was saying, and when it finally hit him, he lost the grip on his glass, not even flinching as it shattered on the floor.

_Notorious mass murderer James Tiberius Kirk, also known as ‘The Joker’ has been apprehended by the vigilante known as The Batman while feeling the scene of—_

He ran to the TV, hands shaking as he grabbed the remote and angrily smashed buttons until it turned off. He had been caught, which means it was only a matter of time before he told the authorities how he had gotten out.

Leonard sank in his chair, his head in his hands, wondering how he could have been so stupid.

 

 

 

***

It had been 72 hours since the news of Jim’s arrest had broken around the city. According to the reports of various media outlets, Kirk had been severely roughed up by the police between his arrest and arriving at the station. This news didn’t surprise Leonard one bit. Cops tended to stick up for their own and it was common knowledge that Kirk had been responsible for several deaths inside Gotham’s police department, including a bombing carried out by one of his cronies that had resulted in the death of close to 30 people, police and citizens alike.

There would be no new trial this time for Kirk, he had pleaded guilty outright to all new charges of homicide, armed robbery and destruction of city property. The magistrate had handed down a sentencing almost immediately - it would be death for Jim Kirk.

This also didn’t surprise Leonard one bit.

But that didn’t make the news any easier to handle.

It’s not like it was love. He’d be a fool to think it was either way. People like Kirk weren’t capable of love, only manipulation and god, had Leonard been manipulated. But at the same time, there had to be some sort of feeling there.

When Jim’s sentence had been passed down there was a stipulation. A death sentence that would be converted to a mere life in prison without possibility of parole and all he had to do was give up a name. The department wasn’t stupid. They knew that no matter how much of a genius Jim was, no matter how large his network was, he couldn’t have pulled this off without some sort of help on the inside. They had already suspected at least two guards and one member of the janitorial staff was on Kirk’s payroll, but they couldn’t prove anything. It turns out “reasonable doubt” happens a lot when there is no paper trail and no one willing to talk.

The judge had given him an out. All it would take was a name and he would be spared his life and given the chance to somehow escape again. Kirk didn’t say a word. He rolled his eyes and looked around the room, seemingly bored at the proceedings around him despite the seriousness of their nature.

With a slam of his gavel, the judge declared that James Tiberius Kirk was to die by way of lethal injection five days from then. He was to be held in absolute isolation, allowed no contact with the outside world. Since he had no more living relatives, the only visitors allowed to see him in his final days were his priest.

And his psychiatrist.

Leonard was given a chance to speak to Jim one last time, officially to give an evaluation of his mental health before his execution. He requested to be able to speak to Jim alone, without the presence of guards and was granted his request, with much hesitation. He stated doctor / patient confidentiality, which was true, but more than that, he needed answers to questions he wasn’t sure of how to ask. Questions that he sure as hell couldn’t ask anyone else.

Eight hours before his execution, Leonard had his chance to speak to Jim. He made his way to Cell Block E where death row inmates were held. As he approached the door, he was told by the guard that he had one hour to speak with Jim and that the __prisoner__ was secured inside the cell.

Leonard nodded in acknowledgement as he was quickly ushered inside the small room, the deafening __thud__ of the door closing and locking behind him. He looked around the small quarters and noticed a chair had been placed in there for his benefit. He took a seat, leaning forward to rest his elbows on his knees, hands clasped in front of him. Jim was sitting on the narrow bed at the head, his feet secured tightly to the floor. He had his head bowed down, his head in his hands. For the first time since Leonard had met him, Jim looked defeated.

They sat in their usual silence for close to ten minutes, which Leonard had started to find comfortable at this point. But he didn’t have time for this - they didn’t have the time.

“Jim.”

Jim’s head snapped up, his eyes wide like he just realized there was someone else in the room besides him. Leonard noticed his eyes were bloodshot and the thin skin surrounding was purple and blue. He hadn’t been sleeping, although Leonard couldn’t blame him a bit on that one.  His daddy always told him sleep was for the weak - that he could sleep when he’s dead. He felt that his daddy and Jim had the same philosophy.

“Leo?” Jim blinked a couple times, trying to get his eyes to focus. He sounded surprised, almost as if he had imagined Leonard coming in here before and was trying to figure out if the man in front of him was real or another mirage.

“Yeah, kid, it’s me. Listen we don’t have very long, they said I could only see you for 30 minutes so we need to make this quick.”

“How long have you been here?”

“About fifteen minutes.” He double checked his watch, confirming.

“Shit. I - I actually don’t know what to say. Sorry, I guess.”

Leonard raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Sorry for what?”

Jim forced a short breath out that could easily be confused for laughter to someone who didn’t know who they were dealing with. “We’ve only got 15 minutes, Leo and frankly we could waste the whole time on that. Let’s just say for everything. But mostly for getting you caught up in all of this. Caught up with me.”

Leo screwed his eyes shut, taking deep breaths to focus his attention. “Why’d you do it?”

He heard Jim swallow before he spoke.

“Do what?”

“Don’t fuck with me, not now. Why did you keep quiet? Why didn’t you tell the judge I helped you out? You’d still -- you’d still be alive if you did.”

Jim did let out a bark of laughter at that. “No, Leo, I wouldn’t be. I’m a dead man walking either way. I wouldn’t have made it long before some rogue cop came in here. Some other inmate was given a shorter sentence to do someone’s dirty work. Someone was gonna make sure I was a dead man, so I figured why ruin your life in the process.”

Leonard hesitated before he made his next move. His foot was tapping a hundred miles a minute before he heaved himself out of the chair, crossing the close quarters to lean down in front of Jim. He braced his hands on the other man’s thighs, looking him dead in the eye.

“Is that all?”

Leonard ran his hand down Jim’s arm, circling around his wrists, his fingers easily finding his pulse. Jim’s heart was racing. It was a good thing he was only a few inches away from Jim at this point, because when he answered his voice was a broken whisper.

“You’re the psychiatrist. You figure it out.”

“I want to hear you--”

“No. You don’t.”

And he was right. It was the last thing in the world Leonard wanted, or needed, to hear. They both knew this. Maybe he thought this was his punishment - his penance for his part in all of this. But despite his need to be punished, Jim wasn’t going to be the one that handed it down. He opened his mouth to speak, but was cut off by the guard knocking at the door - “You got one more minute, McCoy.”

One minute.

One more minute left with Jim and he sure as hell wasn’t going to waste it.

His hands flew up to Jim’s face, gripping it tight as he crashed their lips together. Jim’s hands came up to Leonard’s shoulders, and Leonard thought for a moment he was going to push him away, but the moment passed and Jim wound his arms around Leonard’s neck, pulling him closer. Their first - and only - kiss was by no means perfect. It was hot and wet, sloppy and needy. It was all tongues and teeth and zero technique. It was anger and sadness, grief and mourning all in one.

Too soon they heard the sound of the guard pulling back the dead bolt of the cell and Leonard scrambled to his feet, practically launching himself across the room. He quickly wiped his mouth, nodding to the guard before turning around for one last look at Jim.

He tipped his head, simply saying, “Kirk.” He didn’t trust his voice for anything else.

“Hey, Leo,” Jim called before he could leave the room. “Have a drink tonight. For me.”

Leonard gave him a small smile. “Sure thing, kid.”

It was a promise he could definitely make. He was sure he would be having several drinks in his lifetime in the memory of Jim Kirk.

He slowly made his way back to the office, telling himself that he was going to fill out the rest of his paperwork on Kirk and close out the file before the time came. That was the smart thing to do. When the execution was final and Jim was really dead and gone, Leonard knew the last thing in the world he would want to do is open the file ever again.

But when he knew the smart thing to do, he usually did the opposite. So he went back to his office to fulfill the final wish of a dying man. He pulled out his trusty bottle of Jack Daniels and poured half a glass, downing it in one gulp, barely registering the taste and quickly pouring himself another glass. He sat at his desk and stared at the empty chair across from it and contemplated his past and tried to figure out his future.

He couldn’t stay here, by no means. No matter what Jim had said to him, there was always going to be a nagging feeling that followed him everywhere. He would never know if there was anyone out there that knew his secret. He would resign his position, pick up his life and start over. Again. Going back to Georgia was out of the question. It may be paranoid of him, but if anyone was following him, he sure as hell wasn’t leading them back to Joanna.

He didn’t realize how long he had been staring into space until he heard the bells chime outside.

_One._

_Two._

_Three._

Three chimes means the execution was successful. There were no complications. No last minute pardon came in from the governor. It was a hit.

Leonard held out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, before staring down at the glass in his hand. He downed the rest of his drink in one swallow before picking up the thick file labeled ‘Kirk, James T.’. His hand shook slightly as he picked up his pen and opened the folder. He wrote out a quick medical analysis of Ji-- of the patient. He tried to keep it as short and vague as possible.

_Psychotic. Narcissistic. Sociopath. Genius._

He took a deep breath before filling out the final section on the evaluation.

_Deceased._

_C.O.D. Lethal injection_

He glanced over it, quickly signed his name and closed it for the final time, throwing it into the pile of completed files. He grabbed an empty box that had sat in the corner of his office.  He threw what few personal effects he had scattered throughout his office and left the building as quickly as he could, never looking back.

When he reached his apartment building, he quickly threw his car in park before leaping out. Running up three flights of stairs to his apartment, he fumbled with his keys before finally getting the door opened. He grabbed two empty suitcases, throwing the bare necessities in, making sure to grab the few pictures of Jo he had scattered throughout, before zipping them shut and running back down to his car. Putting the car in drive, he hit the road again heading straight for the nearest interstate.

He decided to head west, keep driving until he hit ocean.

San Francisco had always had a nice ring to it.

**Author's Note:**

> Love to Yvonne, Sarah, Vickie, Finn, Marie, Ashley, Shannon, everyone that showed me so much love and enthusiasm for this and really motivated me to get it done. I couldn't have done it without you guys <3
> 
> Also, please check out this amazing fanart that [Marie](http://bonemebones.tumblr.com) did of Joker!Jim [here](http://jimmkirk.tumblr.com/post/77114349169/ill-see-you-at-the-same-time-again-next-week) and [here](http://jimmkirk.tumblr.com/post/77211940446/bonemebones-i-cant-stop-thinking-about).


End file.
